


A World of Our Own

by Dangit



Category: One Piece
Genre: Aliens, M/M, Pre-Slash, Prelude, Short Drabble, WIP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 19:35:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5103140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dangit/pseuds/Dangit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The year is 2063 when humankind first makes contact with extraterrestrial intelligence. In a small kitchen, Sanji Black makes a new friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A World of Our Own

**Author's Note:**

> This is just something short that I thought of while watching Star-Crossed on Netflix. I still don't know if I'll continue it, but I like it. Updates, if any, will probably be slow.

The year is 2063 when astronomers first view the unidentified object 8,000 kilometers from Earth. It creeps into orbit with no warning, and it rings enough warning signs for the military to be contacted. Nine hours before contact, US Space Command uses global satellite tracking systems, telescopes, and radar to track the flying object.

Three hours before contact, astronomers still don’t know if the anomaly is a vehicle. It is large enough to be seen by the naked eye as a black mass in the sky and the public has started to panic. The object stops moving and everyone’s fears are confirmed: in the solar system all objects are constantly in motions—the fact that this one stopped means it’s powered.

UN Office of Outer Space Affairs quickly crafts a simple message of peace in the five most common languages: English, Spanish, Hindi, Mandarin Chinese, and Arabic. It is transmitted to the spacecraft via television and radio signal.

The public awaits the worst. When no response is given, the public is evacuated into underground camps and the world’s armies prepare to fight. A second message is sent in hope, this one written in the universal language: a sequence of prime numbers.

Twenty minutes later, they receive a message in Sumerian, one of the first written languages known to mankind. It takes three hours and a group of the world’s top linguists to decode the simple message.

_Peace._   
_Without home._   
_Dying._

The message is clear. This group of sentient beings are seeking refuge. They seek a home in Earth, and that is when discussions arise. Some are worried that they are lying. People have spent too long denying the existence of extraterrestrial intelligence to be accepting. The other half of the world is eager. Scientists argue, leaders fight. Do we let them in or do we turn them away?

Finally, human curiosity proves to be too much, and after two days of arguing, a third message is sent to the space craft: _You may enter_.

On July 23, 2063, the now identified space craft lands in Mali, in the middle of the Sahara Desert.

The area around the spacecraft is secured off, and the entire length of the ship is put under quarantine for fear of unknown pathogens. Humans are not allowed inside the spacecraft and all communication is handled through radio signal. Water and essential food is sent inside, and as soon as the spacecraft is deemed secured, the UN military gives the ‘go ahead’ for introductions to be made.

Miriam Zuñiga, Head of the UN Office of Outer Space Affairs, is one of the first people to make contact in a small 8 by 10 quarantine room. The other is Ira Yermakov, the lead linguist who helped decode the Sumerian message.

Once first contact and communication is successful, the United Nations deem it safe for the public to be introduced to alien life.

It is November 19, 2063, and the world is watching.

Sanji, however, is in the kitchen. He is nine years old and more excited about the empty kitchen than the so-called alien meeting. Zeff hasn’t told him much about it, so he doesn’t really care. Vivi is looking forward to meeting one of them, but since her father is only a democratic senator, it doesn’t look like it’s going to be possible. Luffy’s grandfather is the Secretary of Defense, so he actually has a chance of meeting the aliens. Zeff is the Head Chef at the White House, and the only reason why they’re in the United Nations HQ is because he’s known as the best chef in the world and has been chosen to prepare the meal for today’s assembly.

But again, Sanji doesn’t care about any of that. All he cares about is the fact that all of the cooks have left the kitchen for a chance to get a glimpse of the Raigan Leader. And an empty kitchen means a chance to practice his cooking.

Zeff has been letting him come to work with him for the last year, but he has yet to allow Sanji to touch any of the food. Well, he’s touched potatoes. And leftovers. But that’s about it. But now…oh now there’s an entire pantry filled with food and about a dozen cookbooks to choose from.

Sanji picks one at random and smiles when he sees the recipes; he loves Japanese cuisine. He’s not very good at seafood, but how hard can rice be to make? Not hard at all, he decides, and settles on a simple recipe for rice balls.

It does take long for Sanji to steam the rice. He sets it aside and prepares a simple tuna for filling. He wets his hands with a mixture of water and salt and separates the rice into eight sections. He makes a little dip in the rice and fills it up with tuna, then grabs some more rice to cover it up and starts to shape it into triangles.

They end up looking like blobs. Every time he tries to shape them into triangles, they end up falling apart or meshing together. He doesn’t know what he’s doing wrong, but the rice is starting to stick to his fingers, so he gives up and decides to let them look like circles. He’s about to wrap them in nori when a shuffling noise catches his attention.

He looks up and locks eyes with a green-eyed boy.

He instantly knows the boy isn’t human. He has dark skin, kind of like Vivi’s. His hair is green, a shade lighter than his eyes, and his face is round, like Sanji’s. He looks a lot like Sanji, actually. He’s the same height, but he’s a bit heavier. Other than the green hair and pointy ears, there is nothing that sets him apart from a human. But Sanji still knows this is one of the aliens.

“H-hey,” he says hesitantly. The other kid’s eyes freak him out a little. They’re a Dartmouth green, too dark to be natural, and they stare at him as if the kid can read his mind. _He probably can_ , Sanji thinks, paranoid. _Blink if you’re reading my mind_.

The boy doesn’t blink, and Sanji breathes out a sigh of relief.

“Are you one of the aliens?” Sanji asks curiously, a lot less scared now that he knows the kid can’t read his mind. When he doesn’t answer, Sanji frowns. “Do you know how to speak English?”

The boy doesn’t say anything, but his eyes move down to the rice balls. He cocks his head to the side in the universal sign of confusion.

“They’re rice balls,” Sanji explains, picking one up. “They’re food. Do you want one?” he offers.

The boy looks at the rice ball in Sanji’s hand, then up at Sanji again, still silent.

“Food,” Sanji repeats, getting a bit irritated. Doesn’t this kid know _anything_? “You eat it,” he repeats and points to his mouth. “Here.” He offers the rice ball again, and this time, the boy takes it.

Sanji watches eagerly as the boy studies the food. He moves it from one hand to another, then rips it open and pokes at the tuna inside. Sanji wants to snap at him to just eat the food, but maybe this boy doesn’t know how. He _is_ an alien, after all. The boy looks up at Sanji and the blond points at his mouth again encouragingly.

The boy opens his mouth and Sanji gasps. His teeth are sharp, like those of a wolf. His canines are longer than his lateral incisors and the fangs glint with sharpness. But then the kid is taking a bite out of the rice ball, and Sanji forgets all about his teeth.

He eagerly watches the boy’s face for a sign, and his face falls when they boy makes one of disgust.

“You don’t like them?” Sanji asks, aghast. “What’s wrong with them?” He doesn’t wait for an answer—he already knows the boy won’t give him one—and instead grabs one and bites into it.

Sweetness. It explodes in his mouth and makes him gag a little. They’re unbelievably sweet, mixing distastefully with the salty tuna.

“Oh my god, I put _sugar_ ,” Sanji groans and hits the counter with his fist. “I can’t believe it! And it was such a simple recipe! Ugh, no wonder Zeff doesn’t let me cook!” He stares at the rice balls and fights the urge to cry. Damn it, he tried really hard! But not only did he not get the shape right, but he didn’t even follow the recipe correctly. He bites his lip hard but still has to rub at his eyes with his arm. Damn, he can’t cry!

The boy makes a small noise and Sanji turns to stare at him. He’s eating the rice balls. It’s clear he doesn’t like the taste, the face he pulls every time he swallows clear, but he’s still eating them.

“You don’t have to—,” Sanji tries to say, but the boy grabs another one and bites into it firmly, glaring at Sanji as if to say _try and stop me_.

He can’t help it—he burst out in laughter. Is slightly tearful, but he’s more happy than anything. Someone is eating his food—an _alien_ is eating his food…how many people can say that, huh?

Sanji grabs his discarded rice ball and finishes it, smiling at the other boy. His hair looks really soft and for a moment, Sanji wonders if it feels just like grass. He wants to ask the boy if he can touch it, but something tells him that’s a bad idea.

Somehow, they end up sitting cross-legged on top of the counter together, eating rice balls. 

It’s like this that the others find them.

“Sanji!” Zeff snaps and Sanji almost falls off the counter in his surprise. He turns to face the entrance and gulps when he sees the crowd of important looking people. However, the ones that commands his attention is the tallest man in the room.

The man is easily six feet six, with black hair and a pointy beard. His skin is pale like Sanji’s, but because of his black hair, he looks ever paler. His has the same pointy ears as the green-haired boy, but his eyes are yellow—a stark yellow that creeps the hell out of Sanji worse than the boy’s dark green eyes.

But the strangest thing about him are the marks on his body. At first glance they look like tattoos, black and white stripes that follow the line of his collarbones and the edge of his cheekbones. The man is wearing a loose white shirt with the arms rolled up, so Sanji can only see the marks on his collarbones and a few around his arms, but something tells him they cover his entire body. But despite the similarities to tattoos, Sanji knows that they’re not. The color is too rich, the design to perfect to be anything but his own skin. He wonders why the boy doesn’t have the marks, but quickly chases the thought away.

“What are you doing?” Zeff snaps, getting his attention.

“Uh…we were just eating,” Sanji says nervously, glancing at the boy for backup.

And to his surprise, the boy speaks. He speaks in his own language, his voice a little higher than Sanji’s. His language is harsh, rough sounds that are spoken mostly on the throat. But the message is made clear when the boy brings up his half-eaten rice ball.

The other man answers, a deep scowl on his face. He looks pissed, but the green-haired boy doesn’t look worried. Instead, he nods at whatever the taller man says and jumps off the counter.

“Please forgive us,” the taller man says, surprising Sanji with his perfect English. “My son has a poor sense of direction and a knack for getting into trouble.”

“That’s fine,” one of the UN representatives says. He’s an older man that likes to loiter in the kitchen as sneak food before the meetings. Sanji doesn’t know his name, but he likes him. He’s nice. “They’re just children. “

The yellow-eyed man nods and puts a gentle hand on top of the green-haired boy.

Realizing they’re about to leave, Sanji raises a hand in farewell and awkwardly says goodbye. “Uh…bye.”

To his surprise, the boy copies the gesture. “Bye.”

Sanji grins and watches him leave. It’s only until everyone except Zeff is gone that Sanji realizes his situation. He takes a look at the mess he did then offers Zeff a hesitant smile.

“Um…I’m sorry?”

“Clean this mess up, brat,” Zeff snaps and Sanji scrambles to obey.

Even though he’s put in dishwashing duty for the next month, he doesn’t regret making the rice balls. When he tells Vivi and Luffy, they both agree with him that cooking for an alien is the coolest thing in the world. From then on, they follow the news fervently in hopes of catching sight of the green-haired boy again.

They don’t. 

And when January, 2064 comes and the Raigan encampments are set up with the order that all Raigans are to live behind the gated communities, separated from all humans, Sanji loses hope that he will ever see his alien friend again.

 


End file.
